


Only Tonight

by meils121



Series: Sing Me A Lullaby [3]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardion hadn’t expected sleep to be easy, not tonight. It’s only been a few hours since Parker gave him back fresh air. He takes in big gulps of it now, trying to tell himself that he’s fine and safe and everything’s back to normal. But it isn’t. He’s lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Tonight

            Hardison wakes up with a scream. His heart is pounding and he’s tangled in his sheets. It takes him a few minutes to realize he’s in his bed and not in a coffin underground. It takes longer still to convince himself that he’s able to breathe, that each breath isn’t taking him a step closer to death.

            He hadn’t expected sleep to be easy, not tonight. It’s only been a few hours since Parker gave him back fresh air. He takes in big gulps of it now, trying to tell himself that he’s fine and safe and everything’s back to normal. But it isn’t. He’s lost.

            Eliot drove them back to his apartment. Hardison’s not sure where Parker is, only that she’s not here. He knows he made the right decision leaving her alone back at the bar, knows that Parker revealed more of herself today than she’d ever planned on. He just wishes she was here next to him. Her voice had been the only thing keeping him calm the whole time, and he could use it now.

            Hardison sits up and untangles his legs from the sheets. He needs a drink of water and maybe something to make him sleep. He walks to the kitchen slowly, half-afraid someone’s going to grab him again. But he makes it to the fridge. He makes it all the way to the hallway before he feels like he can’t breathe again. He grabs the doorframe for support, trying to tell himself that it’s all okay. It doesn’t work, not that he thought it would.

            “Bad dream?” Eliot says, and Hardison looks up to see his friend standing in front of him. “Not surprised.”

            He doesn’t move to help Hardison stand back up. Hardison’s grateful. He felt too helpless today. He appreciates that Eliot’s willing to let him do this on his own. Eliot still watches him the whole time it takes Hardison to walk to the couch and sink down into the cushions.

            “Wanna talk?” Eliot asks. Hardison doesn’t say anything, just nods, but it’s enough for Eliot. “I’m making hot chocolate.”

            It’s easier to talk when he’s not looking Eliot in the face, Hardison finds. Somehow talking into the shadows is easier. There’s light spilling over from the kitchen, and it’s just enough to make him feel safe.

            “I didn’t think I was gonna make it out of there.” Hardison says, and it’s a relief to finally say that out loud. “Thought I was going to die.”

            “Know the feeling.” Eliot says. Hardison can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen, pulling out mugs and getting milk out of the fridge.

            “How do you get over it?”

            For a moment there’s no sound coming from the kitchen. Eliot lets out a long sigh. “You don’t get over it. You get through it. That memory’s always going to be there.”

            “So how do I get through it?”

            “By focusing on the other memories of today. The good things.”

  
            Hardison laughs hollowly. “What good things? Man, I was in a coffin.”

            Eliot’s footsteps are steady as he comes back to the living room. He hands Hardison a mug and sits down on the opposite side of the couch. “How about the fact you got out?”

            “That’s not exactly what I’d call a good memory.” Hardison says. “It’s not like I’m ever gonna look back and say, ‘wow, remember that time when I finally got out of the coffin? It felt great!’”

            “That’s not what I’m saying.” Eliot growls. “I’m saying, focus on how good it felt to breathe fresh air again. Remember how bright the sun was. Think about how relieved you were to see our faces again.”

  
            “I’d rather not think of it ever again.”

            “Suit yourself.” Eliot says. “But that doesn’t work. Believe me, I’ve tried. Back when I first joined up, the things we saw were horrible. A buddy taught me to look at the good things. Used to tell me to make a kid laugh when we were out on patrol, so that’s what stuck in my head instead of everything else we saw.”

            “Oh.” Hardison says. He’s not sure what else to say, so he takes a long sip of his hot chocolate. Like everything Eliot makes, it’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted.

            “You’re never going to forget today, man.” Eliot says. “But if you can remember how it felt getting out of there, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to handle then if all you think about is being trapped. You have to remember the ending to the story.”

            Hardison lifts his mug in reply. It’s good advice – he knows that much – but it’s another story entirely if he’s actually going to be able to follow it. “That help with the nightmares?”

            Eliot shrugs. “Sometimes.”

            “And the other times?”

            “Wish I could tell you.” Eliot says.

            Hardison gives Eliot a half smile. “Well, thanks. For the talk. And the hot chocolate. I’m gonna try sleeping.”

            “You sure you’re okay?”

            Hardison shrugs. He’s not okay, but he’s also not sure what talking about it more will do. He values what Eliot’s told him, he really does, but he’s a little afraid if he sits here any longer he’s going to burst into tears and that’s not really what he wants to do.

            “Don’t be stupid, Hardison.”

            Hardison nearly drops his mug, and next to him Eliot swears. Parker’s sitting in the chair across from the couch, her feet tucked up under her and looking at both of them with what might be amusement.

            “When did you get here?” Hardison asks at the same time Eliot says, “How did you get in?”

            Parker is Parker, and she doesn’t answer either of them. She does steal Eliot’s hot chocolate and downs the rest of it in a big gulp. “Eliot’s good at singing lullabies.” She says. “That’ll help you sleep.”

            “I’m fine.” Hardison says. He’s too tired to figure out when – and how – Parker appeared. He’s not really in the mood to keep talking either. “Night.”

            He can feel their eyes on him as he leaves the room. He can’t explain why he doesn’t want to be with them – he’s not even sure if that is what he wants. He pulls the covers back around him and closes his eyes, trying to do what Eliot suggested and remember the way that first breath of fresh air felt like in his lungs. It’s enough to make him drift back to sleep, but it’s not nearly enough to keep the nightmares away. He wakes up feeling like he’s been trapped for hours, but when he fumbles for his phone he realizes only a few minutes have passed.         

            The door opens and a sliver of light falls across the room. “It’s okay to be scared.” Parker says quietly. “Me and Eliot get like this too.”

            “I never have.” Hardison admits. And he hasn’t. He’s had bad dreams before, woken up in the middle of the night with his heart pounding and clutching his pillow tight to his chest. None of those can compare with the nightmares he’s had tonight.

            Parker walks towards him. For a moment her face is lit up, and Hardison can see the tear tracks on her cheeks. But then her face is in shadows again and she’s crawling into his bed. She’s got her body tucked up around him, and it’s comforting the way she leans into him.

            “Eliot.” Parker calls. Hardison hears Eliot’s steady footsteps coming down the hall. Eliot pauses in the doorway, then joins them on the bed. He’s close enough that Hardison can feel his body heat.

            “I don’t know if I want to sleep.” Hardison says.

            “That’s okay.” Parker says. “We can talk.”

            And that’s what they do. Parker talks about the time she broke out of a French jail just for the fun of it. Eliot tells them the time he accidently became head chef for the Swedish royal family. Hardison starts off just trying to listen to what they’re saying, concentrating on the words and not the way his breathing still isn’t entirely under his control. But at some point he realizes he’s laughing and Parker’s got her face buried in his shoulder as she chokes back her giggles.

            “Thanks.” Hardison says when he’s caught his breath. “For all of this.”  
            Eliot just smiles. Parker doesn’t move, just says sleepily into Hardison’s shoulder, “I don’t want you to be sad.” She says. “Can you sing now?”

            Eliot chuckles, low and soft. “Yeah, Parker.”

            Hardison’s not sleepy, not really, but Eliot’s voice is soothing nonetheless. Parker’s breathing changes after only a few minutes, keeping a slow, steady count as Eliot sings.

            “Thanks.” Hardison says again. “I mean it.”

            Eliot stops singing. “We look out for each other.” He says simply.

            “Yeah.” Hardison says, closing his eyes as Eliot starts to sing again. “Yeah, we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
